Choose Me When You Dance
by Wynter Alchemist
Summary: (Full Plot Summary Inside) AU, RiyRiza pairing, rated for later chapters(aka lots o' sex! Note the rating kiddies), first fanfic ever, so please read and review!
1. Chapter 1

**__**

Choose Me When You Dance

By: WynterAlchemist

****

Standard Disclaimer: I don't own FullMetal Alchemist any more than you do. Unless, of course, you happen to own FullMetal Alchemist.

****

Author's Drabble: This in an AU fic taking place in Dublin, Ireland. I don't know why that city and country in particular, but let's roll with it. It's a Roy/Riza pairing in the extreme, and will be rated for mucho sexual content in later chapters. Because you can never have enough smut in the world.

****

Plot: Roy is captain of the Dublin branch of the Royal Guard, aka the military. Riza is the Lady of the Hawk's Eye Manorain't I clever, and catches the ever-wandering eye of Roy. With that said, I'd like to outline the plot for you a bit. The Throne of Ireland has been empty for years, the rightful king having been murdered, and his only heir, a small, blond-headed child, had been sent to live with a common knights family, to keep her safe from the plotters that killed her father. With the king dead, only the mother of the sole heir knows where the child was sent, but her mind was broken by the news of the kings death, and is of no help. When Roy finally puts two and two together, can he support Riza's rightful bid for the crown, and make her fall in love with him? We shall see…

****

Author's Drabble: Yes, I am referencing the tales of King Arthur, if anyone was sharp enough to catch that… When Arthur was born, Uther sent him to live with a knights family to keep him safe, and teach him humility and love for those of a lower station. Onto the fic!

She was gorgeous. Cold and refined, she sniffed and turned up her nose at louts like himself, but her coolness towards him, when other women were flocking and vying for his attention and affections, was refreshing. In the light of the grand ball room, her hair shown flaxen in color, a shade of blond that none of the other women of high society, no matter what chemicals they put on their heads, could match. Her eyes were a fascinating cinnamon color, a reddish brown that had held his attention since the first time he had seen her. Her figure was slim, but muscled- Odd for a lady of society… Of course, her father had been in the military, so it was only expected that his first born be trained as well. Her womanly frame was clothed in a field of dark blue. Full dark blue skirts that rustled whimsically against her no-doubt slim and toned legs, a form-fitting bodice of blue and gold, the neckline low enough to make a man wonder, though modest enough that the small bit of skin exposed shouldn't be bothering him as much as it was. Her arms were fully covered by long, sweeping sleeves of the same dark blue and gold material as that of her bodice. Her hands were small, like a child's, though her fingers were long and tapered. He knew, from hear-say, that she could make those long fingers dance across a piano to create the liveliest of songs and the most heart-breakingly sweet of melodies. She was a woman of many talents, it seemed, because she had yet to be bested in a duel of pistols. Riza Hawkeye, the Lady of Hawk's Eye manor, daughter to a war hero, and woman of his dreams.

He was handsome, she'd give him that. As she risked a glance in his direction, she was forced to admit to herself that he was much more than handsome. Every female he came into contact with would swoon, and every man would was forced to admit their shortcomings. A few of them swooned as well. Not that she could blame, really. As long as she was being honest with herself, she had to admit his midnight black locks of hair, slightly too long and always seeming to fall into his equally dark eyes, was endearing and attractive. His mouth was firm, full, almost feminine, had it not been for the days growth of beard he always seemed to have. His tall, lanky body was clothed in a suit of black, a crisp whist shirt underneath his stylish jacket, and, she imagined, a well-defined and toned body underneath his high society finery. She quickly looked away from him as her thoughts took a turn for the risqué, she took a small sip of the red wine in front of her. There was not much to be said for the man. He was far more aloof than he appeared, and no one was close enough to know what his likes were, his dislikes, what sort of plays he enjoyed, even if he enjoyed them. He was Roy Mustang, fire alchemist, Captain of the Royal Guard stationed in Dublin, and puzzle to her. Having been thinking into her wine, she hadn't noticed when he had moved to walk, confidently of course, across the dance floor to her family's table. Blinking up into his dark, endless eyes as she became aware of his presence, he gave a polite bow at the waist.

"If I may have this dance, Lady Hawkeye…" He smiled at her, a small smile, but a genuine one. It wasn't the lecherous smirk he used with other women, or the condescending smile he wore when other men were talking to him. It was unnerving, to say the least. Placing her hand, with it's slightly callused fingertips, into his large and tanned one, she nodded briefly before standing up. She let him lead her onto the dance floor, where he swept her into his arms and whisked her across the floor, moving smoothly and in time with the music. Riza could dance as well as any ballroom socialite, but she had to concentrate a bit on the steps. The song had an upbeat tempo, and Mustang was a man that put his mind to his work, especially when women were involved. He moved her skillfully around the other dancing pairs, never moving further away from her than he had to.

"Why me, Mr. Mustang? There are plenty of young women here that you could-"

"Fist of all, call me Roy. Please," he said when he saw her reluctance to address him in such an informal way. "Second, there are indeed many young women here, but you are the only one here without an escort," he said, shooting her one of his winning, women-charming grins. She didn't respond in kind. She had never been one for men, and now it was beyond her why she had accepted his invitation to dance.

"So you didn't want to deal with jealous boyfriends, is that it?" she asked, arching a blond eyebrow at him, her cinnamon eyes not looking away from his obsidian gaze.

"You're not afraid to speak your mind, that's for sure. You're bold, Miss Hawkeye. And skilled with firearms, if I heard right. Why are you not in the Royal Guard?" he asked, effortlessly changing the subject. Riza was well aware of answer that wasn't an answer, but she let the subject be changed. Without her noticing it, the song had changed, slowed, and they were moving in a slow, perfectly matched rhythm, step for step they were in perfect time. Again, it was unnerving to feel so… comfortable with this man, of whom, up until now, she had only known through popular gossip.

"I was… for a brief time, I was in the Royal Guard. My mother had died in child birth, and when my father became ill for a long period of time, I resigned and came home. He better now, of course, as you can see," she said, gesturing to her family's table, "but I had been too long out… The military wasn't the place for me. My duty was to my father, and so now I'm here, dancing with you."

"So is dancing with me part of your duty?" he asked, using the same cynic tone and eyebrow arch as she had earlier. Riza nodded her head in acknowledgement.

"Touché," she said. "I was rude, and I apologize."

"You were bold, not rude," Roy said, expertly moving her nearer the edge of the floor, near the open doors that led out to the extensive maze-like gardens of the estate of the fellow that was holding this ball.

"Most see little difference, I'm afraid."

"It shows character and backbone, two traits which I admire, Miss Hawkeye."

"Then you'll allow me to exercise my boldness, which you are so fond of. I'm a giggling school girl, Roy. I want fall into bed with you because you've offered me a few compliments and a pretty smile." Roy had led her off the dance floor, she realized, and had looped his arm with hers, leading her into the maze gardens she had admired earlier in the day. And he was laughing. A chuckle, really, but it was deep a resonant, even in the open air. It sent minor shivers along her spine. Putting his hand in his pocket, the hand that wasn't currently resting at her elbow, he just shook his handsome head.

"I never meant to-" he stopped himself before looking down at her. "Well, maybe I did mean to… invite you to my bed, if you will. But now that I know you've no intention of bedding me-" Riza gaze an unlady like snort at that, causing him to look down at her.

"You twist words to suit your needs, Mr. Mustang. As if _I_ would ever even think of bedding _you_," she said, shaking her head. Roy chuckled again, moving his arm to encircle her waist, pulling her closer to him, his other hand coming from his pocket to hold her hand in his as they walked along the garden paths. She stiffened at his sudden shift in contact, and she found herself wondering why she didn't just slap him and go back to the main ballroom. _Because,_ she answered herself, _you like this game of wits, the sexual banter, however light and subtle. You like _himshe told herself.

"You'd be surprised at what women do around me," he murmured, his voice entirely too intimate and arousing for her comfort.

"You'd best watch your tongue, Captain," she said coolly, stepping away from his embrace. "Back to an earlier topic, why did you choose to dance with me?" Roy knew she wouldn't let the subject be changed or evaded this time. She was an intelligent woman, as well as beautiful, and he couldn't let himself forget that. But could he tell her that he had been sent to dispel a rumor about her that had been floating around the so-called heads of the kingdom? Could he tell her that he had been sent specifically to find out the origins of her birth? Could he tell her that she could be the heir to the throne of Ireland? Could he tell her that he was already smitten with her? That she was the most beautiful, intelligent, perfect woman he had ever met? That he, Roy Mustang, philanderer and wooer of many, had fallen first this time? And had fallen hard? He doubted it.

"I chose you because you have the most fascinating colored eyes I've ever seen." It was true- He'd never seen a woman with such strong colored eyes. She blinked those wonderful eyes up at him, an almost girlish innocence in them at his unexpected remark.

"I…" amazingly, she flushed a bit, her milky skin turn a light pink across her high, proud cheek bones. Roy smiled to himself, glad he had finally phased her. He was afraid she was already too cynical, had given up on romance… But, by God, she hadn't, and he was a master at romance, if not love itself. "Thank you," she finally managed, regaining her composure, but the scant glance behind those walls made Roy think this whole ordeal of finding if she was then one was going to be worth it.

"I think we should be heading back, Riza…" he said, using her first name for the first time. It rolled off his tongue easily, leaving an after taste of fine wine and honey to linger in his mouth. He was more than happy when she didn't correct his unasked for familiarity.

"Yes, I'm sure my father was more than a little nervous to see me escape the ball room with a man of your…" she paused to choose her words carefully, "reputation."

"Of my reputation, yes…" he mused, taking her arm again. He had made a point to be every bit the gentlemen when in public with her this evening, and still his 'reputation', as she had so softly put it, had preceded, and, indeed, undermined him. As soon as they made their way back into the ballroom, Riza bid him a genuine, if brief, good bye. He watched her hurry back to her father's side, and couldn't help but think that she had dainty hands for one so capable of handling herself, and an entire manor. Riza herself was wondering how a man with such considerable charms and taste for women was, as of yet, still unmarried.


	2. Chapter 2

**__**

Choose Me When You Dance

By: WynterAlchemist

****

Standard Disclaimer: I don't own FullMetal Alchemist any more than you do. Unless, of course, you happen to own FullMetal Alchemist.

****

Author's Drabble: This in an AU fic taking place in Dublin, Ireland. I don't know why that city and country in particular, but let's roll with it. It's a Roy/Riza pairing in the extreme, and will be rated for mucho sexual content in later chapters. Because you can never have enough smut in the world.

****

Plot: Roy is captain of the Dublin branch of the Royal Guard, aka the military. Riza is the Lady of the Hawk's Eye Manorain't I clever, and catches the ever-wandering eye of Roy. With that said, I'd like to outline the plot for you a bit. The Throne of Ireland has been empty for years, the rightful king having been murdered, and his only heir, a small, blond-headed child, had been sent to live with a common knights family, to keep her safe from the plotters that killed her father. With the king dead, only the mother of the sole heir knows where the child was sent, but her mind was broken by the news of the kings death, and is of no help. When Roy finally puts two and two together, can he support Riza's rightful bid for the crown, and make her fall in love with him? We shall see…

****

Author's Drabble: Yes, I am referencing the tales of King Arthur, if anyone was sharp enough to catch that… When Arthur was born, Uther sent him to live with a knights family to keep him safe, and teach him humility and love for those of a lower station. Onto the fic!

She was gorgeous. Cold and refined, she sniffed and turned up her nose at louts like himself, but her coolness towards him, when other women were flocking and vying for his attention and affections, was refreshing. In the light of the grand ball room, her hair shown flaxen in color, a shade of blond that none of the other women of high society, no matter what chemicals they put on their heads, could match. Her eyes were a fascinating cinnamon color, a reddish brown that had held his attention since the first time he had seen her. Her figure was slim, but muscled- Odd for a lady of society… Of course, her father had been in the military, so it was only expected that his first born be trained as well. Her womanly frame was clothed in a field of dark blue. Full dark blue skirts that rustled whimsically against her no-doubt slim and toned legs, a form-fitting bodice of blue and gold, the neckline low enough to make a man wonder, though modest enough that the small bit of skin exposed shouldn't be bothering him as much as it was. Her arms were fully covered by long, sweeping sleeves of the same dark blue and gold material as that of her bodice. Her hands were small, like a child's, though her fingers were long and tapered. He knew, from hear-say, that she could make those long fingers dance across a piano to create the liveliest of songs and the most heart-breakingly sweet of melodies. She was a woman of many talents, it seemed, because she had yet to be bested in a duel of pistols. Riza Hawkeye, the Lady of Hawk's Eye manor, daughter to a war hero, and woman of his dreams.

He was handsome, she'd give him that. As she risked a glance in his direction, she was forced to admit to herself that he was much more than handsome. Every female he came into contact with would swoon, and every man would was forced to admit their shortcomings. A few of them swooned as well. Not that she could blame, really. As long as she was being honest with herself, she had to admit his midnight black locks of hair, slightly too long and always seeming to fall into his equally dark eyes, was endearing and attractive. His mouth was firm, full, almost feminine, had it not been for the days growth of beard he always seemed to have. His tall, lanky body was clothed in a suit of black, a crisp whist shirt underneath his stylish jacket, and, she imagined, a well-defined and toned body underneath his high society finery. She quickly looked away from him as her thoughts took a turn for the risqué, she took a small sip of the red wine in front of her. There was not much to be said for the man. He was far more aloof than he appeared, and no one was close enough to know what his likes were, his dislikes, what sort of plays he enjoyed, even if he enjoyed them. He was Roy Mustang, fire alchemist, Captain of the Royal Guard stationed in Dublin, and puzzle to her. Having been thinking into her wine, she hadn't noticed when he had moved to walk, confidently of course, across the dance floor to her family's table. Blinking up into his dark, endless eyes as she became aware of his presence, he gave a polite bow at the waist.

"If I may have this dance, Lady Hawkeye…" He smiled at her, a small smile, but a genuine one. It wasn't the lecherous smirk he used with other women, or the condescending smile he wore when other men were talking to him. It was unnerving, to say the least. Placing her hand, with it's slightly callused fingertips, into his large and tanned one, she nodded briefly before standing up. She let him lead her onto the dance floor, where he swept her into his arms and whisked her across the floor, moving smoothly and in time with the music. Riza could dance as well as any ballroom socialite, but she had to concentrate a bit on the steps. The song had an upbeat tempo, and Mustang was a man that put his mind to his work, especially when women were involved. He moved her skillfully around the other dancing pairs, never moving further away from her than he had to.

"Why me, Mr. Mustang? There are plenty of young women here that you could-"

"Fist of all, call me Roy. Please," he said when he saw her reluctance to address him in such an informal way. "Second, there are indeed many young women here, but you are the only one here without an escort," he said, shooting her one of his winning, women-charming grins. She didn't respond in kind. She had never been one for men, and now it was beyond her why she had accepted his invitation to dance.

"So you didn't want to deal with jealous boyfriends, is that it?" she asked, arching a blond eyebrow at him, her cinnamon eyes not looking away from his obsidian gaze.

"You're not afraid to speak your mind, that's for sure. You're bold, Miss Hawkeye. And skilled with firearms, if I heard right. Why are you not in the Royal Guard?" he asked, effortlessly changing the subject. Riza was well aware of answer that wasn't an answer, but she let the subject be changed. Without her noticing it, the song had changed, slowed, and they were moving in a slow, perfectly matched rhythm, step for step they were in perfect time. Again, it was unnerving to feel so… comfortable with this man, of whom, up until now, she had only known through popular gossip.

"I was… for a brief time, I was in the Royal Guard. My mother had died in child birth, and when my father became ill for a long period of time, I resigned and came home. He better now, of course, as you can see," she said, gesturing to her family's table, "but I had been too long out… The military wasn't the place for me. My duty was to my father, and so now I'm here, dancing with you."

"So is dancing with me part of your duty?" he asked, using the same cynic tone and eyebrow arch as she had earlier. Riza nodded her head in acknowledgement.

"Touché," she said. "I was rude, and I apologize."

"You were bold, not rude," Roy said, expertly moving her nearer the edge of the floor, near the open doors that led out to the extensive maze-like gardens of the estate of the fellow that was holding this ball.

"Most see little difference, I'm afraid."

"It shows character and backbone, two traits which I admire, Miss Hawkeye."

"Then you'll allow me to exercise my boldness, which you are so fond of. I'm a giggling school girl, Roy. I want fall into bed with you because you've offered me a few compliments and a pretty smile." Roy had led her off the dance floor, she realized, and had looped his arm with hers, leading her into the maze gardens she had admired earlier in the day. And he was laughing. A chuckle, really, but it was deep a resonant, even in the open air. It sent minor shivers along her spine. Putting his hand in his pocket, the hand that wasn't currently resting at her elbow, he just shook his handsome head.

"I never meant to-" he stopped himself before looking down at her. "Well, maybe I did mean to… invite you to my bed, if you will. But now that I know you've no intention of bedding me-" Riza gaze an unlady like snort at that, causing him to look down at her.

"You twist words to suit your needs, Mr. Mustang. As if _I_ would ever even think of bedding _you_," she said, shaking her head. Roy chuckled again, moving his arm to encircle her waist, pulling her closer to him, his other hand coming from his pocket to hold her hand in his as they walked along the garden paths. She stiffened at his sudden shift in contact, and she found herself wondering why she didn't just slap him and go back to the main ballroom. _Because,_ she answered herself, _you like this game of wits, the sexual banter, however light and subtle. You like _himshe told herself.

"You'd be surprised at what women do around me," he murmured, his voice entirely too intimate and arousing for her comfort.

"You'd best watch your tongue, Captain," she said coolly, stepping away from his embrace. "Back to an earlier topic, why did you choose to dance with me?" Roy knew she wouldn't let the subject be changed or evaded this time. She was an intelligent woman, as well as beautiful, and he couldn't let himself forget that. But could he tell her that he had been sent to dispel a rumor about her that had been floating around the so-called heads of the kingdom? Could he tell her that he had been sent specifically to find out the origins of her birth? Could he tell her that she could be the heir to the throne of Ireland? Could he tell her that he was already smitten with her? That she was the most beautiful, intelligent, perfect woman he had ever met? That he, Roy Mustang, philanderer and wooer of many, had fallen first this time? And had fallen hard? He doubted it.

"I chose you because you have the most fascinating colored eyes I've ever seen." It was true- He'd never seen a woman with such strong colored eyes. She blinked those wonderful eyes up at him, an almost girlish innocence in them at his unexpected remark.

"I…" amazingly, she flushed a bit, her milky skin turn a light pink across her high, proud cheek bones. Roy smiled to himself, glad he had finally phased her. He was afraid she was already too cynical, had given up on romance… But, by God, she hadn't, and he was a master at romance, if not love itself. "Thank you," she finally managed, regaining her composure, but the scant glance behind those walls made Roy think this whole ordeal of finding if she was then one was going to be worth it.

"I think we should be heading back, Riza…" he said, using her first name for the first time. It rolled off his tongue easily, leaving an after taste of fine wine and honey to linger in his mouth. He was more than happy when she didn't correct his unasked for familiarity.

"Yes, I'm sure my father was more than a little nervous to see me escape the ball room with a man of your…" she paused to choose her words carefully, "reputation."

"Of my reputation, yes…" he mused, taking her arm again. He had made a point to be every bit the gentlemen when in public with her this evening, and still his 'reputation', as she had so softly put it, had preceded, and, indeed, undermined him. As soon as they made their way back into the ballroom, Riza bid him a genuine, if brief, good bye. He watched her hurry back to her father's side, and couldn't help but think that she had dainty hands for one so capable of handling herself, and an entire manor. Riza herself was wondering how a man with such considerable charms and taste for women was, as of yet, still unmarried.

Author's Drabble: Per request of my very first reviewer ever, Glaux Kitty, here's a second, though admitally shorter, chapter. I know the first chapter was a little short, minus all my drabbling at the beginning, so I apologize for that. I was also just setting the scene and all that, so this one should be a little more involved. I don't know if it was just me, but the first chapter seemed a little rushed. I'll try to slow down the pace a bit. Please review!

The gun jumped in her hands, the kickback of the modified pistol strong, despite her being ready for it. She'd have to tinker with it some more…

"With the bullet capacity increased, feedback is much stronger. Probably because the power was increased as well, giving it more force when the trigger is pulled," she mused aloud, setting the gun down on the table beside her, pulling the cotton out of her ears.

"You're aim is good," came a familiar voice. "Though I think with your reflexes, you can do with a lower capacity gun, that way the kickback isn't so hard on your pretty shoulders." Turning around, gun back in hand, Riza just stared blankly at the handsome face only a few feet away from her.

"With all due respect, Captain, you're an alchemist. I wouldn't presume to tell you how to use your fancy circles and such. I'm a gunner. I've been working with guns since I was a little girl. I don't think you should presume to tell me what to do with them." Her voice was formal, her posture stiff. Who did he think he was? A few dances at an obligatory ball and some time spent in the gardens, and he could come over to _her_ manor uninvited? And be right about the modifications she had to make for her own gun? Roy held up his hands in innocence, shaking his head.

"I'm sorry if I overstepped my boundaries, Lady Hawkeye," he said with a polite bow. She looked at him, a cynical gleam in her eyes as she tried to figure out if he was sincere or not. She noted he was dressed in the typical blue and gold dress uniform of the Royal Guard, the proper stars and braid on his shoulders showing his rank as a Captain of the Dublin division of the military. She fought the initial urge to salute him, and call him 'sir', as she had the former captain when she had been in the Royal Guard herself. For almost two years the Royal Guard had been her life, but when her father had fallen ill, she had come home to care for him, and Hawk's Eye, and realized she couldn't go back now. Her father was so happy now, grateful to his daughter for being able to take the load of taking care of Hawk's Eye off his aging shoulders. Shaking her head a bit as she slogged her way through her thoughts, she decided to try and not be too vexed with the confident Captain.

"I apologize for snapping at you like that. Now, what brings you down here?" she asked, acutely aware of the fact that she was dressed rather scandalously in tan linen pants, a matching closed collar shirt, and a wide leather belt, a gun holster upon it. A woman of her station should be dressed better, but she wasn't one to deal with rules of conventional society.

"I came to see your father about some matters, and he said he wasn't going to undermine your authority by discussing said matters with out you. I offered to come down here to fetch you." He grinned and offered her his arm as she holstered her weapon. "And I wanted to apologize for my… forward behavior at the ball the other night. I know I have a reputation for being a-"

"You've nothing to apologize for. I enjoyed your company, and would have found the ball otherwise unbearable." There, she'd said it. She liked him, and his company, and now he knew it, Maybe now she could forget about the dream she'd had in the early morning hours after the ball… She hooked her arm through his, and couldn't' help but see the irony that she, a woman with no interest in marriage or men, was on the arm of the most wanted bachelor in Dublin.

"It's a well-kept manor, Miss Hawkeye. I don't mean to imply that it's well-kept for a woman being in charge, just that it's well-kept," he added, seeing the look of resentment in her lovely eyes as he looked down at her. She glanced up at him in turn, and couldn't help but grin a little bit. They both chuckled a bit, coming upon the doors of the main house all too soon for both their liking.

Roy opened the door for her, amused to see a slightly peeved look on her face at the common courtesy. Once inside, he bowed lowly to her father again, a proud man with a full head of white hair and keen blue eyes. It was clear Riza took after him, though they looked nothing alike. They were both people of pride and honesty. Hard work was obviously something they were used to, and equally proud of the fact.

"Mr. Hawkeye, Miss Hawkeye, I appreciate you seeing me today," Roy said, sitting down in a plush chair that was across from the long, polished wooden desk, where Riza took her seat, her father sitting on her right side, showing that he was as much in charge here as she was. It was a delicate balance Riza preformed- Keeping her father's pride at ease and still commanding enough power to make it clear she was the one who ran things, whatever front they put up. He admired her diplomatic skill as much as her beauty. It was beyond a doubt now that she was who the court had rumored her to be. Her flaxen hair and unique eyes were hints, but this innate regal bearing, her proud posture and efficient, effective way of dealing with things was the give away. She was a royal, through and through. And if what Roy had seen of this enchanting and capable woman was any indication of her true self, Roy would see her to the throne.

"It's no problem. Things have been slow around here," Riza said, the former feeling of almost companionship gone, replaced with a polite formality that Roy would have approved of, had it not been from her directed at him. "What is it you need, Mr. Mustang?"

"To be blunt, and I'm sorry if I offend, your birth records. And any other early life records you may have. I need to confirm a suspicion of mine," he said, his coal black eyes looking at the elder Hawkeye, who had fallen into a fit of coughing. Riza looked oddly at Roy, trying to figure out just what he was trying to accomplish, before standing quickly and pouring her father a shot of whiskey, knowing the burning liquid would do wonders to calm his coughing fit. Handing him the glass, she glared at Roy, though it really wasn't his fault for her father's condition.

"Would you mind telling me what you hope to accomplish by asking for such private records?" she asked, arching a delicate, blond eyebrow.

"To confirm a suspicion of mine, as I said," he responded, looking as if it were painfully obvious.

"Let's not be coy, Mr. Mustang."

"Coy?" he repeated, looking innocent.

"Mr. Mustang!" she said sharply, her hand reaching for her gun. Waving his hand as if to clear the air of tempers that had quickly developed, shrugging.

"I'm under direct orders not to reveal anything that isn't already known until my suspicion is confirmed," he said vaguely, his black gaze back on the elder Hawkeye. The man's bright blue eyes were downcast, an aura of illness and secrets about him. Following Mustang's gaze, Riza knelt by the old man.

"Father…?" she asked, her voice soft.

"I have no right to bear that title, Riza," he said, speaking for the first time. His voice was deep, full of sorrow and long hidden pain. "There's something you need to know, child," he said. Riza looked up to question Mustang, but he had already left the room, sensing the need for privacy.

"Father?" Riza ventured again, her eyebrows knit in concern and worry, apprehension and the closest thing to fear she would ever get clear in those cinnamon depths.

"Riza, my dear child…" he began.

Author's Drabble: cliché dramatic music Cliff hanger! grins maniacally I know, all you hate me now, don't you? I promise I'll have the next chapter in soon, you can count on it. I just don't want to reveal everything in one chapter, you know… Keep the suspense and such. Please, leave a review! I live off of your comments, so please, please, please help me stay alive a little longer! Thanks bunches!


	3. Chapter 3

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Author's Drabble: Sorry it's taking me so long to update… cowers behind a defensive wall Please, don't hurt me! I come bearing the chapter in which Riza's secret is revealed… Duhn duhn duhn! ( Cliché dramatic music) So please, read on! And I live on your reviews, so please leave one! Much love to those who do! And thanks to those who have. showers previous reviewers with candy

Riza almost wished Mustang had stayed. Maybe then she could have given into her feminine urges to lean on someone, anyone, as her father spoke. But he hadn't, and she was alone, and she could handle it. That was why she was the Lady Hawkeye, rather than Miss Riza. It was why she was running Hawk's Eye manor, rather than living in it. It was why Roy had left the room, and why she couldn't resent him for doing so. Her father placed a hand on her shoulder, bringing her out of her monologue state of mind to look up at him.

"Riza, dear, have you been listening to what I've been saying?" the older man asked, looking down at the young woman he had raised since she was just a babe, though she wasn't his daughter. Not by rights, not by blood. She stammered.

"I… That is to say- Well, it's all-"

"Hush, my child," he responded with a kind smile, removing his hand. "I know it's a lot to take in at once, and I apologize for having to do this to you…" his voice trailed off, and he sat down again. He was old, there was no denying it. That was why Riza had given up her passion for firearms and the military. And now he was about to lose her, through no fault of his own, of course, but it wasn't much comfort.

"Father, I don't… Well, rather, I have a hard time grasping the situation. It's not that I don't understand," she said after a moment, her hands folded demurely in her lap as she struggled internally not to give into that oh-so feminine urge to cry. Her entire world had been tipped upside down, and one wrong move was going to send her tumbling into the skies of depression and tears. But she was determined not to do that. She was Riza Elizabeth Hawkeye, and she could _not_ forget that. She wouldn't cry, she wouldn't falter, and she wouldn't fall. She wouldn't.

"You always were a sharp child…" he murmured to himself. "Riza, you are not a Hawkeye. You are the sole heir to the throne of Ireland. Your father, the late king, sent you to live with me and your- my wife, when you were still just a babe. There death threats against the royal family, and your real father wisely thought to save his dear daughter, his only child, by sending her to live with a trusted courtier," he paused here, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself. It was so hard, for both her and himself, to say this. Damn that Roy Mustang! Damn him to a thousand levels of Hell and back, he thought grimly, though his rational side was aware that this had to happen some day. But so soon… _Ah, how selfish I grow in my old age_, he thought to himself as he glanced at the closed door, wondering if that damnable Mustang was listening. _I've had her for almost 25 years. It's time I give Ireland their queen. And what a queen she'll be…_

"And that infant daughter was you, Riza. You are a Dais, you are the only Dais left, the heir the throne of Ireland," he said, his statement ringing with such truth and clarity that Riza couldn't help but believe him. But still… Her? A Dais? It was almost laughable. A Dais was supposed to be raised in the courts of kings, a Lady Dais taught to sew and act as a proper lady should. Not to handle guns with the skill and precision of a surgeon. Not to be able to run a manor with one hand and take care of the elderly with the other. It wasn't right. She wasn't meant to be queen… She wasn't meant to be queen, but come Hell or high water, she was going to make her father, and the elder Hawkeye _was_ her father, proud.

"Father," she said after several moments of wrestling with her feelings, "I'll become queen. But I will do it with the Hawkeye name. If I am to rule from the Irish throne, then I'll do it as a Hawkeye. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a Mr. Mustang to see about political backing, and you need to find any sort of documents that will prove my bloodline." Riza blinked at her own efficiency, her own practicality. But then, she had always been like that. When something needed to be done, she did it. Her father, incredibly, smiled.

"You'll make a fine queen, Riza. Imagine, a Hawkeye on the throne," he said, his tone almost wistful. He had expected hate, anger, tears- Anything that would signal a negative reaction and a breaking of their relationship. But here there were smiles, action, and acceptance.

"We'll talk together later, father. I'm inviting Mr. Mustang over for dinner tonight, and we'll coordinate our efforts and such." She stood up, and smiled down at her father. "I really have no idea what I'm doing," she said in a wondering voice, and left the office.

Author's Drabble: Barely two pages, I know… I'm ever so sorry, but my inspiration bunny has decided to take a vacation. Though I quite like this chapter, for whatever reason. Some character development on Riza's side- She's not just a gun-toting bad-ass, you know. She is human… I must apologize for the lack of Roy. It pains me as well, but it needed to be done. I don't want to force the relationship between them so quickly. I plan on making them travel together, in secret, to get the capital of Ireland(I know that Dublin is the current capital, but I need an excuse to have them be together in close proximity of one another), because a powerful alchemist in the capital has his own designs on the throne, and doesn't want to see Riza take her rightful place. Hence the secrecy part. So, until next time, much love to those who have reviewed. I love you all!


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